


The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker than the Water of the Womb

by peanutbutterbagels



Series: A Series of Improvements [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of OCD, Nightmares, OCD, Panic Attacks, Taako has tattoos try and change my opinion, pretty sure it’s a panic attack but just to be safe, the birds live together because uh duh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterbagels/pseuds/peanutbutterbagels
Summary: When Angus wakes up it’s still dark. The air is cold and his pyjamas are twisted around his body like a straight jacket. His mind is angry at him for something he can’t understand and he’s receiving a million directions and instructions per second and it’s plain too much——Angus has a nightmare and Kravitz is there to comfort him, as any strange dead adoptive father figure should be.——I finally rewrote my terrible fic that I put out just over a year ago! (Go read it if you want to melt your brain it’s pretty bad)
Relationships: Angus McDonald & Everyone, Angus McDonald & Taako, Kravitz & Angus McDonald, Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Series: A Series of Improvements [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801252
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker than the Water of the Womb

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey before you read please be very careful!! 
> 
> I’m pretty sure the whole upset Angus goes through in this fix is a panic attack!! I based it on my own experiences, so forgive me if it’s not really one. 
> 
> Also if OCD or anything like that is upsetting, them this may not be the fic for you. I’m not 100% sure that this is actually OCD but again, this is based off of my experiences and my counsellor thinks this is OCD (I am yet to be diagnosed). 
> 
> This is just a vent for me, please be safe and if I am in fact bastardising or appropriating a serious disorder then please let me know so I can remove the tags. Stay safe <3<3<3
> 
> Comments are SO SO SO appreciated they are usually so lovely and make my whole day <3<3
> 
> Have fun idk.

When Angus wakes up it’s still dark. The air is cold and his pyjamas are twisted around his body like a straight jacket. His blankets are far too hot and his body is slick with sweat. His breath is coming fast and thin and it feels like all the oxygen in the room is actively avoiding him.

His eyes are stinging like he’s about to cry and he can feel the ‘Thump Thump Thump’ sound of his heart beating too fast and too hard and making the blood rush past his ears in a wild cacophony of white noise. His chest is tightening like a corset being tied and it’s almost physically painful to exist in this current moment.

His throat is wet but it’s almost a physical struggle to swallow past the dry, sandpapery lump in that resides there. He brings up his hands to push the frizzy curls of hair out of his eyes but they’re shaking far too much and the notion of that is only making his chest tighten more and amplifying the echoey radiation of anxiety that is spilling from the part in his chest where his heart should be.

He manages to pull himself up into a sitting position, back pressed straight up against the headboard and hands hidden safely beneath the blankets like they should be, tap, tap, tapping in their special rhythm of eight, eight, switch, eight eight. He can’t see much without his glasses but keeps his eyes trained on the outline of his feet through the covers to avoid the piles of clothes that turn dark and demonic at these paranoid hours of the night.

He snaps his jaw in time with his tapping, making his teeth bounce together like pearls flouncing around on a wealthy woman’s chest. His thoughts are running a mile a minute and he can’t keep track of all the things flooding his mind except for ‘tap or you’ll die, tap or you’ll be killed, tap or Taako will be hurt, tap or Kravitz won’t come home, do it right or Barry will get sent to ghost prison, do it wrong and Magnus will get killed in a fight, you messed up now Lüp is going to die and it will be your fault and everyone will despise you and it’s all your fault all your fault all your fault-‘

Hot tears make their way down his cheeks, hot tracks steadily glistening in the pale and weak moonlight that shines through his window in cheeky white streaks. The lump is getting bigger and he worries that he won’t be able to breathe soon. If his hands weren’t shaking so much he’d be able to get his tapping to go right and then this wouldn’t be happening, if he had tapped properly before, 16 times on each hand, 32 times in total, and 64 if he was playing safe, then he wouldn’t be crying and he wouldn’t be dealing with this stupid problem again.

He makes sure that every part of him below the waist is completely submerged in the blankets, not a toe or flap of pyjamas sticking out. He keeps his hands tapping steadily under the blanket, refusing the move them to wipe away his tears. He keeps rigidly still, because his mind is showing him projections of what will happen when he moves and if someone will see him. 

His brain keeps sending him flickering instructions, only five seconds, 10 minutes, don’t move for 2 minutes, at 3:00 you’ll be allowed to move again, every time you move it’s another 30 seconds, just another 15 seconds, and it’s making his head spin and his heart beat harder and faster and he can’t take control. 

Eventually, his brain gives him a gap. ‘You have ten seconds to get out of the room. If you touch the floor someone gets hurt.’ Angus waits until his brain tells him to go and then he grabs his glasses and books it to the door, making sure to only step on clothes and furniture that lay scattered across the floor, making sure to touch each one evenly on each foot.

The hallway is easy to get through, stepping onto the rug, putting on his glasses, and making sure to take an even amount of steps before stepping onto the cold wooden staircase. He knows the hall is safe and he doesn’t have to tap to prevent something from hurting him.

The steps are a bit different. The stairs in Taako and Lup’s house were a deep dark wood, the edges carved with flowers and protective runes and sealed with a sweet-smelling polish. The stairs are smooth and cold. 

Angus’ feet don’t like smooth and cold.

Angus, in his hurry to leave, had neglected to grab socks or slippers or any sort of footwear and was forced to walk on his toes to avoid the terrible shivers that ran through his body when he touched stuff like this. It mostly worked.

He makes sure to count each step as he goes down, taking 14 steps down and jumping over the last one to make sure he’d taken even steps. He lands on his toes and manages to not make too much noise as he hits the bottom floor.

He leaps onto the rug that covers most of the floor and scurries across to the kitchen. The kitchen tiles are pretty, but again they’re cold and smooth and he has to walk on his toes to avoid those gross tingles. 

He makes sure to stand two tiles away from the cabinets, under which there are a few inches of room for something to maybe hide or try to hurt him. He would preferably stand in the middle of the kitchen, but Taako insisted it be big enough to act as a tenth bedroom.

He doesn’t really know why he’s here. His brain gave him an opportunity to move and escape and he took it, but what now? His face was still wet from before and his breath still a mile away. His throat is dry and his lips are sticking together and he is decidedly, not doing good.

‘What would Taako do?’ He wonders, trying to figure out what to do. 

Probably ignore the situation until it rectified itself. 

Yeah, probably best to ignore Taako’s advice for now.

‘What would normal parents do?’ He thinks, and this time he gets an answer. A glass of water. 

In the storybooks, a glass of water helped fix everything. He could definitely try that. He definitely could.

The cupboard with the glasses is right above the sink. He pulls one of the bigger ones down, making sure not to let it go underneath the cupboard door, lest any sawdust gets inside his glass. He knows that Taako’s house is lovely and expensive, made proper and good with sealed doors and rooms, but a life lived in dilapidating houses had taken it’s toll on him and he couldn’t do much about it now.

The first glass he grabs has a grease stain on the side, the person putting away the dishes must not have washed their hands after dinner. The smear is only on the outside but Angus’ mind is adamant that this glass can no longer be used. He puts it beside the sink to be cleaned again tomorrow morning.

The next cup is completely spotless, and Angus takes it from the cupboard carefully and fills it with cold water from the jug in the icebox. He climbs up onto the counter to drink it, an act of rebellion against Don’t-Sit-On-My-Mother-Fucking-Counters-Taako.

At first, he lets his legs dangle off the edge, kicking them childishly as he sipped on the cool water. But then that horrible tingle goes through his body that means ‘you’re being stared at’ and then his legs feel dirty like they were slathered in red and white paint, a bullseye waiting for some horrible shadow to devour it.

He yanks his feet up and onto the counter, shuffling back until he sat in the centre of the cool marble. Not a single part of him or his clothes are even remotely close to the edge, and that thought gave him at least a little comfort.

He doesn’t have to tap too much after that, only a few rounds when he thinks someone is watching him. He takes off his glasses not long after — he doesn’t really need them right now and they’re kind of gross anyway, covered in his tears and snot. 

He continues to slowly drink his water, keeping his eyes trained on the sink in front of him. ‘If you look anywhere else something bad will happen.’ Really, he was used to it, and despite everything in his body was fighting (look away, look away, look away, don’t stop looking, don’t stop looking) he felt strangely calm.

Then, out of nowhere, there was noise. Not much. The hum of a voice too far away to comprehend, the creaks of distant floorboards.

It would be sensible to assume one of the other eight house members were awake — half of them didn’t need to sleep regularly (or at all) and most of them couldn’t nowadays. 

That didn’t stop the hairs on his arms and legs from standing up straight, or his heart from beating so damn loud he couldn’t think. Sirens were going off in his head as he clutched the glass tighter. 

‘You didn’t tap enough times you idiot, you moron you did it wrong you forgot a number you messed it up and now you’re going to die’

His thoughts are racing far too fast to analyse the situation the way he normally would, with a deep breath and steady mind. All he can focus on is the footsteps slowly getting closer and the quiet mumbles that are slowly getting louder.

He doesn’t want to move, even though his body is screaming at him to do something, to get up and run away. There is nowhere to run though. He stays perfectly still, hardly breathing as his blood rushes hotter and faster through his veins.

“You fucking bastards what the hell are you doing-“

Oh god. This was it. He is going to die and he would be the reason his family would get robbed and maybe even killed, all because he couldn’t count right and could tap his fucking hands together like any normal person.

“Oh. I didn’t realise you would be in here.”

That voice. He knew it, it was safe and quiet and cool and smooth and familiar.

Kravitz?

“I apologise for that, I wouldn’t have sworn if I’d have known you’d be here.” He can hear Kravitz stumbling awkwardly over his words.

“It’s okay, sir.” He croaks, cringing when his voice sounded audibly teary.

Kravitz’ footsteps come closer and then Angus can see his hands resting on the marble countertop beside him. “Are you alright, Angus?”

Angus knows better than to lie. He looks up to Kravitz sheepishly with a wet face and a trembling lip.

The man’s dark eyes droop and his darker lips pout. His eyebrows meet in a display of confusion. “Oh, darling,” he murmurs, sighing as he looks over Angus’ dishevelled face. He tucks loose curls back into his headscarf with the rest of his braids.

Angus bit his lip. It was normal to be upset, and Kravitz is obviously not mad, but he still feels so ashamed. He should be able to handle this.

Kravitz swallows awkwardly, looking around the room before locking his eyes back on Angus. “Do you— do you want a hug?” He asks, somewhat painfully awkward, but manages to give Angus the smallest of smiles that clears his head a little.

Without hesitation, Angus barrels into his open arms, knocking the man back a few paces from the counter so that he has to support his whole weight. Kravitz hardly complains, just bounces him and gives hushed comforts as Angus sobs into his neck.

He wraps his arms around the cool neck of his father and tightens his legs around his waist, and for once he doesn’t feel icky and dirty and vulnerable having his body exposed like this, not hidden by a door or a curtain or off the ground.

Sobs shake his entire little form, but Kravitz only gives him comfort, ignoring the steadily growing wet patch on his pyjama shirt. Kravitz is pretty bad at most things that aren’t fetching souls of the guilty or using a scythe as a weapon, but he’s pretty good at this whole parent thing. He still needs practice, most definitely, but he’s far better than Taako.

He stands in the kitchen, child in his arms, for gods know how long until he gets the idea that maybe this isn’t the best place to have this sort of interaction.

He steadies Angus against him with an arm under his butt, hangs his glasses on his shirt collar, grabs his mostly full glass of water with the other and walks swiftly through the sliding doors and into the living room. (Get it? Living room? Because he’s dead? Sorry)

He sets the glass down on the mahogany coffee table and carefully sits himself down on the bright purple couch, careful to not crush any little boy limbs in doing so. Angus seems to be pretty aware of what is happening and pulls back his legs to curl up in Kravitz lap instead of around him.

He doesn’t, however, pull his face away from the man's neck, only burrowing in further as he continues to cry. Kravitz rakes his fingers through Angus’ wild curls, watching them bounce when he pulled away. His cool digits scrape Angus’ scalp occasionally and induce a stutter of an involuntary purr to rumble in his little chest.

The boy calms down quick enough, and Kravitz knows that when his breath begins to hitch less and less and his shirt and neck stopped getting any wetter, that maybe it’s time to talk about what had just happened.

Kravitz clears his throat. “So, Angus.” He pauses for a nervous breath. “Would you like to talk about what happened?” Angus only shrugs.

Fuck.

“You were crying, my love.” He says, rather dumbly. “Sometimes when I have a nightmare I cry a lot. Did you have a nightmare?”

Angus doesn’t move for a long time, which leads Kravitz to think he’s fallen asleep, but he nods after a while with a little quiet whine to accompany it.

Kravitz coos. “Oh, poor boy.” He tightens his hold on Angus and doesn’t complain when he hears whimpers and feels his neck get wet again. He pats a steady rhythm into the boy’s back, whispering kind words as Angus gets it all out.

This time the little boy doesn’t exactly stop crying, hiccuping and gasping as his breath slowly came back to him. “Sometimes I have very scary nightmares, and I can’t stop crying and I just want to curl up and go invisible, but then your Papa gets me to talk about it and I start to feel a lot better. Would you like to talk about what happened with me?” Kravitz is trying his best here, trying not to let his anxiety (his terrible, terrible anxiety) get the best of him.

Angus shrugs again, staying silent in the crook of Kravitz’ neck. “Okay, buddy, whatever you want.”

Kravitz leans back so that he’s laying against the cushions rather than sitting up, and so that Angus can lie down instead of being uncomfortable upwards.

Angus doesn’t keep crying, but Kravitz keeps up a steady rhythm patting his back. He’d like to hum or maybe even sing for him, but he doesn’t want to disturb the poor boy any more. 

It’s been about ten minutes now, and Angus still hasn’t moved or made any other indication that he’s conscious, so Kravitz gives him one last kiss before pulling himself to his feet and Angus up with him.

The boy sits heavily in his arms, and without his little arms and legs to hold himself up, Kravitz has to support his weight with both arms. He keeps a hand on the back of Angus’ head to make sure he doesn’t tip over and wake up. 

He pads barefoot up the stairs and across the carpeted hallway and pretends not to notice that the bed frame in Davenport and Merle’s room is bashing against the wall. Thank god the walls are thick.

He would drop off Angus in his own room and tuck him up in his little bed, but frankly, he’s a little bit scared after what just happened. He’s experienced things like this before, with Taako, Lüp, Barry, Magnus, even just by himself, but something about a child so small being so afraid in his own home has rubbed him the wrong way.

Instead, Kravitz walks on past the door with a Caleb Cleveland poster and takes a right, turning into his own. 

Taako is sitting up in bed, flicking through an old comic book in the dark, though he tosses it across the room when he sees Angus. 

Taako stares at Kravitz with a furrowed brow as he stumbles through the obstacle course of washing and junk Taako has accidentally left all over their floor. 

“What happened, thug?” He asks, pulling the covers up a bit further.

Kravitz manages to make it to his side of the bed without getting something stuck in his foot again. He lays Angus down beside Taako as gently as he can before climbing in himself.

Taako seems to relax when he realises Angus is asleep. 

“I think the little guy had a nightmare and then a panic attack,” Kravitz says, moving Angus so that he’s properly resting on one of their many pillows, and pulling up the blankets to keep him warm.

Taako tuts, pulling out one of Angus’ tiny dark coils and watching as it bounces back as soon as he lets go. “Poor little dude.” He frowns but instantly switches to a scowl when he sees Kravitz smiling.

“Shut up.” He snaps, but Kravitz can only laugh.

“We all know you love him.” He teases, poking Taako’s side and narrowly avoiding a hard punch.

“Shut the fuck up!” Taako hisses, face red. “I’m gonna divorce your dead ass and take all of our shit with me!”

Kravitz giggles, smiling wide. “Okay, you do that.” 

Taako keeps on grumbling but doesn’t complain when Kravitz kisses his cheek and even gives one back before the shorter man curls up around his boy and goes to sleep.

Taako, being the last awake, makes sure to dim the lights before he joins them not long later, arms wrapped around the smallish boy in their bed. 

Kravitz's eyes are forced open sometime later, and after multiple millennia of serving his Queen whenever he was summoned, he was pretty dang good at waking up fast.

Angus is writhing around in the sheets, still blinking sleep out of his eyes and whimpering weakly. 

Kravitz hastily sits up, pulling the blankets down and freeing Angus. Despite the kid being a half-elf with dark vision, he‘s blinking blindly in the dark room.

His chest is going up and down rapidly and Kravitz is almost unsettled by just how loud his panicked breathing is. 

Taako is still fast asleep, his back facing them and his arms, covered in ink, hogging up the blankets.

Bastard.

Kravitz wipes the sweat off of Angus’ forehead, and his dark little eyes finally make contact with his own. He wriggles around in the bed until he is pressed up against Kravitz’ side.

“Oh, bub,” Kravitz coos, taking Angus hands in his own and squeezing them rhythmically in an attempt to ground him.

“Where am I?” He asks, voice hoarse and quiet. He is fighting against his heavy eyelids to stay awake, and Kravitz almost dies again at how cute he is.

“You’re in me and your papa’s bed, hun.” Kravitz murmured and Angus nods, looking somewhat relieved. His tiny face instantly flushes at the thought of calling Taako ‘papa’, and Kravitz only just manages to bite back a squeal.

Kravitz once again feels very out of place. “Uhm, are you feeling any better?”

Angus stares at him blankly for a while before shrugging again.

Kravitz nods and curses silently. It’s pretty hard to communicate with a kid who is trying very hard not to.

Angus shuffles in the sheets, moving his face so that it isn’t half-buried in the bed anymore. “Had ‘nother nightmare.” He grumbles, picking at the bottom sheet aggressively.

Kravitz sighs sympathetically, sending a little pout in Angus’ direction. “Oh, poor bub.”

Angus sniffles a little, screwing up his little face to stop himself from crying. “About the Hunger.”

Kravitz nods, taking the boy’s face in his hands and holding him close. “Darling, my dear boy, I’m so sorry.”

The kid shrugs again, hiding his tears eyes in the palm of Kravitz’ hand. He bites his lip and tries to blink away the tears that haven’t fallen yet. 

All is silent for a little while, aside from Angus’ pitiful sniffles, until Kravitz speaks up.

He clears his throat first since he’s afraid of startling the boy and making him any more upset. “I uhm-“ he starts, struggling to put his thoughts into words, “I have dreams about the Hunger too.”

Angus looks up at him a little bit shocked and a little bit puzzled. “But, sir, the Hunger didn’t get you?” His little eyes aren’t hidden behind thick lenses anymore, and it’s so much easier to see the emotion in them now.

Kravitz shakes his head, then shrugs. “The Hunger didn’t directly attack me,” He says, not looking to Angus but not pulling his hand away from his son’s. “The Astral plane was flooded in black tar, a facet of the Hunger’s power, and I was trapped inside.”

Angus’ huge dark eyes stare up at him. He could see the questions burning in Angus’ eyes even without his glasses.

“The Hunger attacks by cutting off the material plane from all the others, taking away Arcane and Ethereal ability. There was no way for me to leave and no way for me to contact my Queen.”

“What did you do, sir?” Angus asks, sitting up and kneeling closer to Kravitz.

Kravitz hums a little, trying to figure out how to make it sound less scary. “The tar was very thick and very heavy and I almost drowned. When I finally broke the surface I saw your Papa pulling Magnus’ soul through a rift and back into Wonderland.” He swallows thickly, trying to keep his own mind from slipping into panic once more at the memories of his torture. 

“Then, not too long later, I was pulled from the tar and I was in front of your Papa and then I was free and helping to save the world.”

“Wow, sir,” Angus says looking up at Kravitz, stunned. “Your story is a lot bigger than my one, I shouldn’t even be having nightmares.” He mumbles, sheepishly pressing into Kravitz’ side. 

Kravitz wraps Angus up in a hug once more. “No, no, don’t be mistaken, dear boy. Everyone feels different because of different things, and some things hurt people more than others.”

Angus shrugs again, fiddling with the hem of Kravitz’ nightshirt, grey with little cats all over. 

“My love, I’ve died many times and lived much longer, and you are just a child. You have every right to be as upset as you are, most would be far more distraught. I can keep living through that because I’ve experienced it before. Death is second skin to me, and I haven’t the right to be afraid of it anymore.” Kravitz pauses briefly, staring into the void like he’s stuck in his own thoughts.

It doesn’t take him too long to snap back into himself though. “But you? Angus, you are a very brave boy, and you’ve seen a lot of horrible things and lived to tell the tale with morbid positivity. But you’re still a child. What concept have you of life and death? No one can expect themselves to walk away from Story and Song unscathed, especially not yourself.”

Angus whines shallowly into Kravitz shirt, and it takes Kravitz an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise he’s started to cry again. 

Kravitz looks over to Taako, afraid to wake him up. The elf’s tattooed arms are very tense and pressed flat against his body. The bastard must’ve been awake the entire damn time Kravitz was struggling to comfort their (kind of) son. Kravitz scowled internally (Taako was definitely making this up to him).

He sends a sharp kick in Taako’s direction, looking on unimpressed as tries to feign sleep (the man could just barely hold back his loud yelp).

It took a few more kicks, but eventually, Taako rolls over with a very overdone (and obviously fake) yawn. He scrambles to sit up and pull away his legs before Kravitz can lay his icy feet on him any longer. 

Kravitz gestures to the crying child in their bed with a very unimpressed look to go with it.

Taako blanches. He crooks his eyebrow at his husband, who only shrugs in return.

“Uh, hey, kiddo.” He says, very awkwardly, reaching out to pat Angus’ back and pulling back almost instantaneously. “Fuck.” He mutters, giving Angus’ back a soft pat before cuddling around him.

He presses a tiny kiss to Angus’ wet cheek and Angus hums weakly, sniffling still.

Kravitz and Taako wrap him up in a warm (mostly), tight hug and don’t let go until he starts to wriggle and squirm in their arms.

Once they free him he slips down against the pillows, utterly exhausted. His face is still pretty wet and his eyes are puffy and red. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles as his eyes slip shut. 

“Nuthin to be sorry for, peanut.” Taako laughs a little and moves to lay down beside Angus, pulling the covers up over the both of them. 

“‘Night, Papa.” He mumbles into Taako’s chest, fat too tired to bother with formalities (and too tired to realise his mistake).

Taako gives him one last kiss as a reply, pressing his face into the curly hair of his son.

Kravitz slips down beside them, coming close to wrap his arms around Angus and be wrapped up in Taako’s relatively strong arms. “Bye, Daddy,” Angus mumbles, his breath finally evening out and leaving the adults to process this turn of events on their own.

Kravitz looks to Taako with a look of shock, but his husband is wearing a shit-eating grin. He definitely won’t let this go.

“Shut up.” Kravitz whispers, pulling the blanket over the half of his face turned red. 

“Of course, bone boy.” He smirks.

The next time Angus wakes up is thankfully when the sun is up. 

Taako is already out of bed, pulling on a proper shirt over his singlet. Kravitz is still curled around him from behind, but is obviously awake judging by the fact that he and Taako are making quiet conversation.

He wriggles a little and in no time flat Kravitz has set him free. He rolls around until he’s facing Kravitz, who smiles at him and gives him a very soft kiss in the middle of his forehead. “Good morning, Angus.” He smiles, and Angus’ tummy seems to fill with sunshine. 

He doesn’t say hello back, he knows he doesn’t have to, just gives Kravitz a sleepy smile in the soft morning light. 

He gets a sneaky hug from behind and then Taako also gives him a morning kiss, a loud raspberry on his cheek. He squeals and writhes and Taako laughs his loud tinkly laugh. “Mornin’, stinky,” he says, and when Angus sticks his tongue out at him he gapes performatively. 

Angus giggles, and squeals when Taako pulls him out of bed and swings him through the air.

He ends up perched on Taako’s shoulders and staring down at Kravitz, much shorter than his husband.

Taako runs down the hall, Angus screaming (half excited, half terrified) on his shoulders, on his way to the kitchen. He plonks Angus down in his usual seat, right beside a very cheery Magnus, and goes to stop Lüp from making something disgusting for breakfast.

“Good morning, Magnus!” Angus greets, smiling tiredly but still cheerily at the bear man in front of him. Kravitz comes up behind him to slip on his newly cleaned glasses, and Angus is only a little embarrassed about being babied at the breakfast table in front of everyone.

“Hey, Anus!” He waves, and goes back to wolfing down a huge bowl of dry cereal.

Angus’ grin drops into a worried pout. “Sir! My name is Angus! Not anus!”

Magnus only laughs, and Merle guffaws from across the table. “Sure about that, Anus?”

“No!” Angus shrieks, “Not anus!”

After a while of back and forth, Davenport manages to put a stop to the new nickname, sitting beside Merle with steaming hot black coffee in a mug that read ‘I’m fucking done’ in bold print. He tends to use it a lot.

Lup puts a plate of jam toast in front of him with a slightly sticky kiss, and Barry gives him a big hug and a small cup of apple juice.

Breakfast is nice, with six birds and one dead dad to talk to.

Angus smiles to himself.

He doesn’t know why he was so scared in the first place.


End file.
